Hold Your Tongue
by JulesJanson
Summary: Clark Kent may not be as adept at keeping his own secret as he thinks.
1. Complete With A Bow Tie

**Hold Your Tongue**

Chapter 1: Confidentiality Comes Complete With a Bow Tie

- Jimmy Olsen is a lot smarter than he looks.

By: JulesJanson

Disclaimer: I neither own any of these characters nor am I making any money off of my borrowing of them.

Author's Notes: This is my attempt to both reinforce the comprehensive, Mencian philosophy presented in the Superman universe, and to push, perhaps a little too hard, on what is generally agreed to be the story's weakest plot point.

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As a photographer, Jimmy saw things. He looked at things. He used his eyes to capture the light reflected off all the objects in his world and his brain to interpret those signals into things he understood. It wasn't something he had ever truly prided himself on. Though, perhaps he should have allowed himself to start, because it was quickly coming to his attention that he was seeing things other people did not.

For instance, it didn't escape his notice that Superman and Clark Kent had returned on the very same day, within a few hours of each other, after having been gone for the same amount of time. Nor did he fail to realize that Superman and Clark had never, not once, been in the same place at the same time. When live reports were aired on the bullpen television screens featuring some spectacular story about Superman holding up a collapsing bridge or putting out a car fire, Clark was never anywhere in sight. And while Clark had always had a thing for Lois, since his very first days at the Planet, Superman took her up hundreds of feet into the air for 'exclusive interviews'.

Not to mention the fact that they had the same face.

He did have to grant Clark a great deal of credit that he had managed in some intangible way to keep such a secret for so many years. It was an impressive, if not slightly saddening statistic, one that certainly did not reflect well on the basic intelligence of the human race. So yes, Clark Kent was Superman. Who woulda thunk it.

Even while he drew his own conclusions, Jimmy scoured his mind for the reasons (or excuses, really) why nobody else seemed to have discovered what he had. It wasn't such a terrible long shot, if he thought about it properly. Clark seemed to go to great lengths to ensure that he was the one staff member at the Planet who could always be ignored, blown off, invisible, even with his face plastered on the front pages of every newspaper in the city. And, as much as he felt like a stupid adolescent just admitting it to himself, Jimmy knew exactly what that felt like (at least, the part about being disregarded.) They were, in some oddly manifested way, the two most notorious Planet outsiders. What other friends did they have, even if you counted Richard and Lois?

Lois. That one was so pathetic, so ridiculous, that it was almost funny. In fact, it was funny. What Jimmy wouldn't give to see her face when she figured that one out. One thing was certain, when it happened, someone would be in for an earful.

But of course, the fact that Superman and Clark Kent were in fact a single, horribly eccentric being was not the only thing that he had come up with on his own. Not in the least. Ever since Clark had returned from that long-winded, soul searching journey of his (which Jimmy knew to be absolute crap), Jason's appearance and mannerisms had suddenly become much more interesting.

Though his mathematical abilities hadn't been enough to get him through Algebra in one piece, he wasn't so dim that he couldn't put together the dates of Jason's birth and Superman's disappearance, just shy of nine months apart. They had all been told that Jason had been born "premature", which could have accounted for the boy's delicacy, but Jimmy distinctly remembered seeing the kid for the first time, and thinking that he looked just like every other normal baby. He had never truly doubted the fact that Richard and Lois were the boy's parents, but nor had he fully cast off his nagging suspicions that some things weren't adding up.

And then, of course, once Clark was back in the picture, things changed dramatically. Watching the two of them talking together, the comparison was positively striking. The basic lines of their faces held some telling similarities, and though Jimmy knew there was a lot more to the genetics of it that he didn't understand, they both had eyes of an almost… unnatural blue. He had even snapped a picture of the two of them once, wearing identical deer-in-the-headlights expressions. The plan had been to frame it and give it to Lois for her birthday, but now that he had taken the time to mull the situation over, he doubted he would.

Ever present was the matter of what exactly Jimmy would do with this information. He knew he had a scoop on his hands, the biggest, most sensational news story to hit the press since the very invention of Superman himself. Even if he didn't give it to the Planet, there were hundreds of big papers all over the country that would trade an arm and a leg for this stuff. He could make a mint, quit his job, move to Rio…

But then, it wasn't like he was so unhappy where he was. He liked his job, he liked his apartment, he liked his life. For now, he would relish the idea of being Superman's best friend, keep his mouth shut, and stick to his daily grind as the Daily Planet's doormat photographer and coffee boy.

Though, whatever Perry said, Jimmy knew he would have made a damn good reporter.

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_Author's Notes: I have always seen Jimmy as being ideally placed both to know Clark's secret and keep it to himself. Though the general impression that we get from him is of someone slightly naïve, spirited but underfoot, he does show himself to be relatively perceptive, especially on such occasions as when he speculates that even after five years and a son with another guy, Lois Lane is still hung up on Superman, an idea that most people seem to have let go of. _

_He is also one of the first to comment on the possibility that Lex Luthor might have been up to something, that it might be a good idea to get an idea of his whereabouts and current projects before he could do any real damage, as he certainly had a track record for causing trouble when Superman was around. While the voicings of his suspicions were really just exploited for expository purposes in the movie, the effect that it has on his character should not be overlooked. His insights more accurate than he is given credit for. And though Jimmy is not the only person that Clark spends any great amount of his time with, he is the only person who really considers himself to be Clark's equal, on a social level, a circumstance that really helps to clear his judgement and help him draw informed conclusions. _

_The assertion that Jimmy would not share Clark's secret is solely based on my own personal opinions, that as the sort of human being that is consistently being exemplified in the Superman universe, he would make the right decision. _


	2. Say Something Ironical

**Chapter 2- Say Something Ironical**

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Above nearly all else, Jimmy hated office gossip. Whenever it arose (and it really wasn't very often), he disregarded it entirely and went on with his work, fully and utterly above such trivial things.

That may or may not have been true, but he felt much better telling that to himself. So, when Lois and Richard broke off their engagement in the friendly, quiet, grown-up way that he would have expected from them, he tried his very best not to notice. Suffice it to say that he wasn't entirely successful.

All of those false pretenses aside, the whole thing really did seem rather anticlimactic after over five years of the Donna Reed Show. They had been, well, a really _cute _couple, as his little sister would have said. The two of them still came in to work together, so he allowed himself to assume that they were still living together, a situation that screamed of awkwardness. Jason kept at work with them as always, hanging out at either one desk or the other, but now there was no quick kiss on the cheek shared by the two parents whenever the torch was passed. In all honesty, the sudden lack of public displays of affection was the only thing that had really changed. Good for them.

Clark's reaction to the news (if news it could be called) went something along the lines of what Jimmy had anticipated, as he became more bashful, clumsy, and generally Clark-like than was typical. Nobody noticed the subtle change.

Having only narrowly avoided a great deal of drama, everyone in the office was throwing themselves more and more into their work. Even Superman seemed to be clocking in extra hours on the job, with four potential front-page feats accomplished in a single afternoon.

More scoops, more digging, and generally more effort put in by everybody else meant that Jimmy, whether he wanted it or not, was much busier than usual. Three different assignments the previous day had left him with far too many shots to go through in a single sitting. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a choice, as he had been sitting still so long his legs had gone numb and if he stood up now he'd get that horrible tingly feeling that he had dreaded since he was seven. So, here he sat, nose two inches from the screen of his computer, flipping frantically through images, his deadline approaching faster than a speeding bullet. He was almost finished, so close, so _tired…_

"Jimmy?" If he hadn't been sitting down, the effect would have been disastrous. As it was, the shock sent him a good six inches out of his chair, his head colliding painfully with the monitor, his knee with the underside of his desk. It was enough for him to have super speed, super sight, _super_ hearing, did he have to be so _stealthy, _on top of everything else?

"Yup?" It was rather painful watching Clark try to get his words out. He had seemed almost _teetering _this last week, past the level of utter exhaustion that everyone else was currently experiencing. Jimmy certainly couldn't blame him. He had a read something about a spot of trouble in Chechnya, a tricky hostage situation that had taken Superman quite a while to sort out. No one seemed to be quite clear on the details, but every source seemed to be in agreement that it had been one of the Big Blue Boy Scout's more stressful situations, and Jimmy had caught Clark almost dozing off at his desk several times that day.

"Did you want to head down to the bar for a drink after you've finished up?" At this roundabout request, Jimmy was rather taken aback. As often as they ended up at the Ace O' Clubs after a long day at work, it had never been at Clark's suggestion. They hadn't gone in a while, simply because Jimmy had begun to take greater notice of Clark's strange attachment to the video screens and radio consoles in the bullpen that must have made his _other _job so much easier. Not for the first time, Jimmy pitied his friend for his inability to get sufficiently drunk. He really could have used it right about now.

"Sure Clark, just give me five minutes."

After hand picking a few more shots, Jimmy rose gingerly from his chair to make a stop at the printer. On the way he caught sight of his tall, bespeckled friend, slouching in his chair, eyes fixed on a blank computer screen. It was probably the saddest thing Jimmy had ever witnessed.

A quick drop-off in Perry's office, a second at his desk to pack his camera, and it was his turn to stand behind an oblivious Clark. For a second he was tempted to give the superhero something of a scare himself, but before he got the chance to make up his mind, Clark rose from his seat, as if he could have heard Jimmy coming a mile off. Which of course, he could.

Jimmy made sure to talk on the way to the bar, keeping up a steady stream of one-sided conversation, pausing only when he noticed a pair of shoes lying haphazardly in the far corner of the elevator, shoes which looked conspicuously similar to the ones that Clark was now wearing. Clark stiffened noticeably when he caught sight of them, but Jimmy just passed it off as "one of those things", before elaborating further on the photo story that someone from Regional wanted set up.

They had been sitting for five minutes, Clark having hardly said a word (opting instead for occasional grunts of acknowledgement whenever something Jimmy or Bibbo the bartender said required feedback), when the bell above the door rang half-heartedly and Lois entered, characteristically composed but totally exhausted.

"Mind if I join you?"

Jimmy only nodded; Clark felt the need to respond with a, "Not at all," spoken at an unusually high register. Lois, impatiently waving off her own request, took a heavy seat on Jimmy's right.

"So, how've you been?" she asked, chancing a glance in Clark's direction before staring at the beer that had been placed in front of her. If Jimmy hadn't known smoking to be her only vice, he would have thought that she was already drunk.

"I-I'm fine. Lois, are you sure you're alright?" Clark replied, frowning, apparently worried by her current state of disarray.

'There you have it,' thought Jimmy. The instant he even thought about helping people his voice dipped to something manly and endearing. Jimmy wished he could do that without sounding like an idiot.

"Oh sure."

"How's Jason?" Jimmy had never been good at maneuvering through these sorts of conversations.

"He's fine." What had happened to the chatty Lois Lane that occupied the Planet office, whose very presence was dreaded in press conferences, whose big mouth mob bosses were willing to pay thousands to keep quiet?

And so they sat, in a stillness and silence only broken whenever one of them took a drink from their beer bottles, staring at the grossly uninteresting counter, wondering who would take the initiative to spark a conversation.

"I have to go."

Lois looked up, annoyed. "What could you possibly-" But Clark had already left, a few dollars sitting next to his half-empty bottle.

"I've forgotten how he used to do that." A few more seconds silence, and then-

"You know, there's a lot Clark never got to tell you about his trip." This, at least, seemed mildly interesting to her.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. He was in the Congo, for a while."

"The Congo?"

"Sure."

This was why Jimmy had never had much of a knack for high school drama club; he really wasn't any good at improvising. So while Lois straightened up on her stool, clearly expecting to hear more about Clark's undoubtedly fascinating experiences in the rainforest of Central Africa, he was left rather tongue-tied. Whatever he made up, whatever lies he spouted to keep Lois's mind occupied, neither of them would ever be able to fully picture Clark gallivanting through the jungle in an Indiana Jones hat with a machete in his hand. They'd never even seen him out of one of his unbelievably old-fashioned three-piece suits. Or at least, Jimmy hadn't. What a "whoa, don't wanna go there" topic that was.

"Do you think he really did all of those things?" Lois's words weren't screamed through a bullhorn at him, but for the second time in an hour, Jimmy almost flew out of his chair. Had he said any of that out loud?

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think that Clark really paddled up rivers and threw himself off of cliffs and ate rattlesnake and all of that?"

"If he says he did."

"But he hasn't said anything. He hasn't told anyone anything at all. I bet he hasn't even told you." Fabulous. She was in one of her town cynic moods now. Jimmy fought back the urge to duck.

"He's probably just waiting for the right time."

"The right time?"

"Well, yeah." When her glare did not subside, he added- "What I mean is, when the opportunity presents itself, he'll tell you everything. I'm sure he will."

Jimmy could have slammed his head into the bar for all the irony in his last sentence. God, he couldn't stand irony. Lois just shrugged, and finished her beer.

_Author's Note- The next chapter won't be such a filler, and if I feel up to the challenge, Jason may make his first real appearance. _


	3. You'll Always Sound Precocious

**Chapter 3- You'll Always Sound Precocious**

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Apparently the opportune moment that Jimmy had hinted at was a long time in coming. Several weeks after his short-lived conversation with Lois in the bar, life at the Planet seemed to return to the reality of five years previous, what with the reincarnation of the infamous Lane-Kent team and Superman's consistent talent for making front-page news. It was just like The Good 'Ole Days, and he enjoyed it.

So Jimmy neither saw Clark walking around with any particularly dejected or shell-shocked expression, nor heard any indignant screams of exclamations from either his or Lois's desk to suggest that the news had been broken. Clark was really taking his time.

As much as he knew it to be a bad idea, Jimmy couldn't really blame him. He himself had still to figure out when exactly he would approach Clark, say what _he _knew. It might be helpful, after all, for Superman to have someone "on the inside", to help him out were he ever to get caught in a jam, or if he needed someone else to make excuses for his frequent absences from work. Jimmy deplored the idea of a sidekick, and he assumed that Clark would too, but that didn't mean that he couldn't lend a hand every once in a while.

Of course, bringing it up to begin with just seemed a little too…confrontational, and Jimmy dreaded the idea of being confrontational with someone seventy pounds heavier and six inches taller than himself. So, just as Clark chose to wait, so Jimmy did also. Jimmy waited by the coffeemaker, at his desk, on the phone. Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait.

"Hi Mister Jimmy."

Again with the sneaking. What on earth (or off it, as it were) was with these people?

Jimmy swiveled in his chair to look at Jason face to face.

"Hey there buddy. What brings you to my neck of the woods?" The kid shrugged.

"Daddy has a meeting, and Mommy's on the phone." Jimmy nodded understandingly.

"Well, why don't you hang out with Mr. Clark?" Jimmy really did like the little boy, but he was insanely far behind at the moment and he really didn't have time to babysit.

"Mr. Clark had to go someplace."

A news alert suddenly reached Jimmy's ears from the TV monitor mounted on the wall above where he sat; something about mudslides in China, Superman there to save the day, etc. Standard stuff.

"Yeah, I bet he did." Jimmy turned back to his computer screen, hating to ignore the boy, but knowing full well that it was more than his life's worth to get these shots in before lunch. Besides, Jason would be able to handle the minor snub. A person couldn't even sit in on the Planet bullpen without developing something of a thick skin. But the kid didn't take the hint.

"Do you know where Mister Clark is?" Jason's voice was the very sound of innocence, but Jimmy had known the boy's mother long enough to be certain that the quiet tones held behind them an unquenchable inquisitiveness.

"He's probably at home, I'm guessing," Jimmy stammered, not daring to turn away from his computer screen.

"Okay." The kid wasn't convinced. Jimmy was starting to get nervous now.

"He'll probably be back in a couple of minutes, you can ask him then," Jimmy replied, using the ongoing TV reports to anchor his estimate.

The two of them were silent for a while, Jason having gotten out some colored pencils and one of his mother's pilfered legal pads. The air of their little workstation was filled only with the sounds of scribbling and clacking computer keys, until-

"Jimmy, does Mister Clark speak Chinese?"

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Jimmy turned in his chair to see Jason still staring up at the TV screen, which was featuring some replayed footage of Superman rescuing a family from the rooftop of a flooded house, his back most decidedly to the camera.

"I don't think so. Why do you ask?" A four year old. He had been outwitted by a four year old. And Jason knew it too.

"Just wondering." There was a long pause, while Jason returned to his drawing with greater enthusiasm, almost bouncing in his seat. Jimmy barely dared to glance at his masterpiece, and when he caught a glimpse of the all-too-familiar "S" inscribed in a red pentagon, he whipped back around to force himself to focus on his uncooperative filing software.

"Honey?" Lois was finally off the phone. Jason turned around for a split second, leaving his drawing where it was, looking rather pleased with himself, before going back to his mother's desk, leaving Jimmy alone and astounded.

He had no doubts whatsoever about what Jason had meant him to get out of their conversation, and Jimmy was definitely impressed. It had been achieved with Richard's talent for subtlety, he could tell. Lois would never have been able to pull off something like that without cracking.

Jimmy couldn't help but feel slightly relieved to have something of a partner in crime. It was as though burden had been lifted from him, and he didn't even realize how heavily it had weighed on him until now. Of course, the fact that a toddler had managed to discover the same thing that he had sort of took him off his high horse. He could finally stop congratulating himself for being a smarty pants.

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_AN- The next update will probably come sometime in the next day or so, as I managed to get more written over my trip than I had anticipated. _


	4. The Old One Two

**Chapter Four- The Old One-Two**

Jimmy had finally made up his mind. One beer too many the night before and a terribly inspirational Lifetime movie (which had wormed its way onto his TV, he assured himself, entirely by accident) had given him the guts to fess up, come clean. Today, at work, he was going to tell Clark what he knew. He would be clear, concise, impersonal, and he would see how Clark reacted, decide how to proceed from there.

All this secrecy, this wishy-washiness, had gotten him starting to feel like some sort of politician, the sort he despised, and today of all days, he really wasn't in the mood. Working to solve this particular problem had been fully occupying his thoughts for several days, ever since the mudslides in China; he had long ago given up on his half-baked theory that Superman was Jason's father, so uncomfortable was he with all the potential implications. It had been easier to just explain it all away, and allow it to take up no more of his time, leaving him with the vastly more simplified equation- "Clark equals Superman".

The difficulty, he knew, would be in the approach. Should he just waltz over to Clark as he ran something through the copier, greet him with a casual, "So, Supes, how was the weather in Singapore yesterday?" Or would something a little more roundabout be more appropriate, a question regarding how he managed to fit his cape in behind that three-piece suit? But what would be the point in beating around the bush like that? Why avoid the inevitable?

"So Clark, yeah, I know you're Superman. I won't tell anybody, so don't start freaking out, or anything like that."

Jimmy took that scenario further in his mind. It seemed like a relatively satisfactory conversation starter, though he doubted very much that Clark would even be tempted to "freak out" under any circumstance.

Come to think of it, what would Clark do? It was certainly a strange situation for him to be put in. Would he just choose to ignore Jimmy, pretend that he couldn't hear a word he said? Maybe he'd be polite and stoic about it, listen intently, and then just nod and walk away in the manner that only Superman could get away with?

On the other hand, maybe he'd just kill him.

Jimmy shook his head vigorously to rid himself of that notion. Yes, while it would certainly make things easier on the Man of Steel's part, and much less complicated, it was a completely ridiculous idea. He didn't even kill psycho criminals, the people who nearly managed to do him in. Superman certainly wouldn't "take care" of someone for such an inane reason. Right?

With this startling new development, Jimmy found himself hesitating. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all, blurting, bragging, _he knew Superman's secret. _What right did he have, to suddenly call so much attention to himself, to demand respect under threatening circumstances? Even Jason seemed to have the presence of mind to keep his mouth shut.

Yeah, maybe he should just wait. It wasn't as though he would be doing any good by it. How on earth could he, Jimmy Olsen, possibly be of any assistance to _Superman_, the alien, the demi-god?

No. He had been over this already. Clark deserved to know who was privy to this particular piece of information, and whatever he tried to tell himself, whatever seemed to be more in tune with his own personal logic, he could help, even in just the most insignificant of ways. It was good, it was right, for him to tell.

But he would do it carefully. Subtlety was the best policy.

When he came into the office that morning, Clark was already at his desk, looking wary and focused and typing just a little faster than a person should be able to manage. Jimmy certainly hoped he was making a lot of typos, to ward off suspicion.

"Hey there, Clark!"

Jimmy felt somehow satisfied to see the larger man jolt a little in surprise. The little lapse, that tiny show of normalcy made this seem a great deal easier.

Clark had turned around, his eyebrows raised, his glasses dangling from the bridge of his nose as if they wanted nothing more than to leap off of his face.

"You know Clark, I was wondering if I could talk to you, for a sec." He waved his hand to indicate that Clark should follow him, and he set off in the direction of the coffee. He sort of wanted to discuss the matter in a relatively populated area of the office, to minimize the risk of any…undesirable fallout. Besides, he had already worked out what to say, and he was 100 sure that it wouldn't be at all compromising.

"Busy day yesterday, huh?" Jimmy knew very well that the previous day hadn't been any more hectic than was typical, in the Planet offices, at least, but Clark let out a harried breath and nodded distractedly.

"Did you want some coffee?" He had already taken two cups down from the shelf, and seemed in a real hurry to get back to his desk.

"In a second, Clark. I just wanted to ask you something." Clark set the cups down and removed his focus from the often-abused coffee maker.

"Sure."

Jimmy took in a deep breath. This was it.

"Clark, do you speak Chinese?"

Clark didn't even flinch. He didn't show any outward signs of relief or disbelief or anything of the sort. His eyes widened, in the simple, singularly Clarkish way, and he shook his head.

"Nope." Just like that, just like it was any ordinary question.

"Oh, okay then."

On the short pilgrimage to his desk, Jimmy pondered what exactly had just happened. Clark had gotten it, right? He must have gotten it. Jimmy had done everything properly. The reference to yesterday, how _busy_ it had been. And then, of course, asking him if he spoke Chinese, he had spoken with just the right amount of deliberation, just the right amount of emphasis. Clark surely could have figured that out, especially if he had been listening in on Jimmy's conversation with Jason the day before, which of course, he had. He heard everything. It was a fact. Yes, of course Clark had understood him. Right? _Right? _

Crap.

The seventh of February was Jason's birthday, and a very big event. Being the Daily Planet's favorite five year old definitely had its advantages, and the morning hours at the office were filled with a little more furor than was normal, what with all the people dropping by the bullpen to deliver presents and congratulations, people who normally wouldn't have allowed anything to take away from the complete mayhem of their day.

In the course of the morning he accumulated so many books, games, toys and baked goods (nearly all of which, it was noticed, complied with Jason's strict dietary requirements) that Jimmy wondered how all of it would manage to make its way into the car. A number of the copy boys had gotten him airplane posters for his bedroom walls, a lady from Local had scrounged up a handful of tickets to some Disney On Ice event in the Arena district, and a few folks from International even sang him "Happy Birthday" in Swahili.

Of course, the festivities couldn't continue all day. A few barked orders from Perry (which only came, Jimmy noticed, after their editor-in-chief had presented Jason with an elaborate toy chemistry set,) and they were all back to work.

It was about lunchtime when Jimmy brought out his own gift, a short stack of piano books that he had gotten from a shop close to his apartment. He had even taken the time and expense to drop the present off at one of those snooty gift shops for wrapping and what not, as he had always been hopeless at that particular facet of domesticity.

Jason had been about to head downstairs with his mother when Jimmy approached him.

"Hey buddy, happy birthday!" He presented the wonderfully wrapped present with the right amount of gusto, and watched Jason move to receive it with an equal enthusiasm.

"Music books!" Jason gasped, before they were even in his hand.

"How did you know?" Jimmy asked, slightly disappointed, but still wearing a smile, watching the little boy appreciate his gift with an adoring stare.

Jason frowned, confused.

"You didn't wrap it," he said quietly, pointing at the parcel still in Jimmy's hands, his little frown deepening as they both began to realize the same thing, that the books were indeed wrapped (and wrapped very expensively, Jimmy added), and that it hadn't made a difference.

Jason stood, staring, completely confused. Jimmy, however, was already thinking about how he could manage to wrap next year's present in lead foil.

"Oh boy."

_AN- That took a little longer than I expected, I apologize for the confusion. _

_Also, I am currently looking for a good beta reader, someone who has enjoyed my work so far and would be willing to help me both with this story's remaining chapters, and anything I might write after this is over. If you are interested, give me a shout out. _


	5. Give and Go

**Hold Your Tongue**

Chapter 5: Give and Go

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_AN- Let me take this oppurtunty to give some long overdue thanks to all of my reviewers. Your feedback has really made this story far more enjoyable to write. _

_Also, to all of those who offered beta help after my last chapter, your generous offers have not been forgotten. I went so long without having the time to write another chapter, that by the time I had it done I was childishly impatient to see it posted, and went against my better judgement in not sending it out for proofing. If anyone detects any typos, I implore you to throw them in my face, that I might learn a lesson about proper fanfic-writing. _

_In light of all my recent wrongdoings, I have made this chapter longer than usual, as it contains many things I think we all wanted to see. Enjoy!_

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Superman had a kid, and Jimmy had a headache.

For what it was worth, he was rather proud of himself that he hadn't screamed, passed out, or done something equally embarrassing when that little bit of news had been imparted to him. It hadn't been easy to keep his cool, especially when he had been left standing in front of a capitally perplexed Jason, who seemed to be able to do no more than frown fixedly at his birthday present.

"Careful pal, or your face might freeze like that." Jimmy had done his best to be as reassuring as possible, all the while unwrapping the collection of books himself, and handing them to the boy with all care. Jason seemed to get a hold of himself after that, and had gone back to his dad's - Richard's – office, and that had been that.

It all felt like it only happened yesterday (probably because it had), and Jimmy was still mulling things over. Jason was Superman's son. Well, that was absolutely fabulous. It seemed fine and simple when you just said it like _that_, but what on earth did it mean?

First off was the matter of who else exactly was privy to this information, as Jimmy sincerely doubted that he was the only one from whom the knowledge had been kept.

Did Clark know? It seemed like a ridiculous question, one much more at home in a South American soap opera than the realm of real life, but Jimmy couldn't really get over that particular speed bump. Superman had certainly disappeared a while before Lois had at least made it clear that she was pregnant, it was possible that he had gone without being aware of the fact, without it even having entered his mind. It wasn't a very happy thought, but there you were.

Than again, what if he _had_ known? Hell, what if that had been his reason for taking off in the first place? It left Jimmy deeply disconcerted to think of the Savior of Metropolis as a runaway dad, but as much as both of Clark Kent's track records singled it out as an absolute impossibility, Jimmy couldn't completely disregard the idea, no matter how much he wanted to.

See, this had been why he had wanted to toss away this whole concept in the first place. Everyone, all these people involved, they were his _friends_, people that he had always respected, looked up to, who listened to him, considered him to be something important, of significance. Clark, Lois, Richard, he _cared_ about them, felt like he had some sort of personal stake in their happiness. It wasn't because he himself had "no life", and was forced to live vicariously through them, he was (and he was dead sure of it), far more mature than that. He just cared. That was all.

And now he felt distinctly as if some wrench had been thrown into their stalwart dependability, a wrench that came complete with big blue eyes and a head of shaggy black hair that _did_ really look like Clark's, now that Jimmy thought more about it. Upon closer reflection, Jimmy found himself wondering whether that had always been one of the reasons he had subconsciously liked Jason so much, that in so many little ways he really reminded Jimmy of his absent friend. It seemed like a reasonable idea, particularly now.

But back to business. Jimmy was still embroiled in the midst of a hundred unanswered questions. Did Richard know? Did Lois know? It seemed like another really _weird_ thing to be asking, but with all the events of the past few months, it was another option that he couldn't entirely rule out. She didn't know about Clark, he was almost one hundred percent certain of that, and she had practically admitted to him that she was more than a little fuzzy on all the massive events that had preceded Superman's departure, the days in which those three aliens had been running amok in the White House and whatnot. No one was particularly clear on the details, but there could have been something there, if he had been in the mood to do a little more digging. He wasn't.

But what if she did know? Had she lied to Richard all this time? Could this be what had broken them up? That certainly made sense, more sense than anything else he had managed to come up with, though, in his own opinion, two people really didn't stay engaged for five years if they had any real intention of actually getting married. Richard and Lois might have just come to understand that, and chosen to move on. That, at least, sounded like something they would do.

And now for the icing on the cake, the Big Kahuna of all his questions, _when was Clark going to grow a pair and finally speak up? _It had been important enough before; he knew that, but _now?_ If nothing else had served as proper motivation, wasn't kindly informing Lois that the father of her son was not just some spandex-coated freak, but her coworker, her partner, her friend, who sat across a newsroom from her every single day, whom she spoke with, every single day, wasn't that good enough? Wasn't that urgent enough? Lois sort of deserved to know who contributed the other half of her kid's genes. It was just a thought.

As much as he had respected Clark's privacy before, his right to keeping his own secret, Jimmy found himself to be extremely annoyed. Annoyed, and disappointed.

-----------------------------------------------

Weeks passed, and nothing changed.

Around the middle of March, there was a reported incident involving some petty criminals and a bit of kryptonite (any quantity of which could now be easily obtained in the wake of Luthor's most recent foray into the real estate industry.) Superman had been most predictable in his arrival on the scene, and though he had somehow managed to land the crooks in jail, it had been a close call. How close, nobody could tell.

Clark didn't arrive at work the next day, but no one took much notice. He was always gone, always missing. Why should they care, on a day just like any other?

Superman's absence, on the contrary, was much remarked upon. He had spoken to the police, of course, on the day of the robbery, and had made it clear when they asked earnest questions about his condition that they had no reason to worry. The media too seemed to latch onto that reassurance, an unusual move, as Jimmy would have expected them to do just the opposite and start throwing stories around that spoke of life-threatening injuries and odds of survival. But they didn't. The news, the radio stations, the television networks, they were run by human beings, after all. And nobody had forgotten what it had been like to know that he was unconscious and immobile in a hospital bed. Not enough time had passed for that to happen.

For once, Chief ordered them all not to play the story up too much. They ran a piece on the robbery, emphasizing, somewhat half-heartedly, that no lasting damage had been done, that the city was doubling its efforts to clear out the remaining kryptonite and that there was a law in motion that would make possession of the mineral as much of an offense as possession of an unregistered firearm, that _this would never happen again_. It had seemed as much the delivery of a plea as a packaging of information. "He's alright," it said, but upon closer inspection it sounded much more like, "_Please God, let him be alright_." Only the smallest mention was made of the fact that he had not been sighted since.

As strange as it was, not many people really worked late at the Planet that night. By nine-thirty, only Perry and the production crew were left actually immersed in the task of putting the morning issue to bed. Lois, Jimmy, and a few others had stuck around mainly to get a jump on tomorrow's work.

Lois was walking towards Jimmy's desk, her nose buried in a manila folder. Richard had left a few hours ago, taking a very sleepy Jason with him, leaving her essentially alone, to work on the multitude of assignments that Jimmy knew she didn't have the time for but which had kept her undeniably busy all day. In typical Lois Lane fashion, she had been left with no time whatsoever for irrelevant talking, thinking. And through all this Jimmy couldn't remember her asking about Clark once since getting to work that morning, though she must have. She would have noticed he was gone. Of course she would have.

She asked for some photos of something or other, some story, some lead. The hands on her folder were shaking; she was shaking. She had probably just had a little too much coffee, that was all. Jimmy had been putting on a new pot every thirty minutes to prevent his coworkers from tearing at each other's throats. Any caffeine addiction was better than bloodthirstiness.

Jimmy was shuffling through some files of his own, looking for the photos that she was asking for. He heard her mumbling something behind him, sounding far too tired to be on her feet, not to mention in those heels. And that's when she started crying.

Jimmy had the presence of mind not to just ignore it and hope it went away, even though he wished it would. He hated to see her cry like this, hated to think what would drive her to this point, Mad-Dog Lane, more Unsinkable than Molly Brown. He didn't like to think of it, but he knew.

She was still mumbling through her tears, something about "him," more about "Jason". He knows enough to wrap her in a friendly embrace, that it's all he can do to comfort her, that he's not the one that she needs to talk to right now.

But she was talking to him. Her words were only partly incoherent, much less so than she probably knew. It's her fault. That seemed to be something of a repeated theme in their one-sided conversation. She practically gave away the information, practically told every criminal lowlife in Metropolis how to get rid of him, keep him off their backs. Someday, she said, they're going to kill him. He's going to die and it is going to be her fault, because she couldn't keep her big mouth shut about the only weakness of Metropolis's resident alien. And who knew where he was now? Who knew if he wasn't dead already? The police may have said he was fine, but that didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything at all.

Every word that he could discern through her gradually increasing sobs made sense to Jimmy, every connection was an easy one for him to make. He knew that she was really referring only to the events of the past few days, but he had a distinct feeling that this sort of tension had been building in her ever since the first few verses of "I Will Survive" had become the story of her life. Maybe it was good that she was letting it out now.

A few more minutes, and she had finally started to calm herself down. Coolly, steadily, as if she didn't register anything having happened, she rose and began to collect the photos that Jimmy had retrieved for her, and began slipping them into her folder. Recognizing a prime opportunity, Jimmy decided to speak up.

"Er, you know Lois, maybe you should head home. I'll get this stuff in for you."

It would have been a hopeless request on any other day; Lois almost never responded to being shooed out of the office. Today, however, she really did look to be past her limit, and, miraculously, she agreed.

Without speaking a word, as if she couldn't trust herself to open her mouth without breaking into sobs again, Lois returned to her desk, collected her things, and headed for the elevator. Jimmy kept a wary eye on her as she waited for admittance. He saw the indicator light blink, heard the soft "ding" of the bell, before the doors opened to reveal…Clark, a little paler than usual, but none the worse for the wear.

It seemed absolutely insane to Jimmy that he should choose to come in so late, if at all, but Clark had always been surprisingly good about not missing days at the office, all things considered. That odd loyalty to newspaper work was another thing he had never really been able to puzzle out of his friend.

Clark seemed to stumble out of the elevator, and noticed Lois's broken state almost immediately. Jimmy watched him struggle for a moment, open his mouth to say something, raise his hand, and he could have sworn that Clark was going to tell her, right then. He was going to take off those ridiculous glasses and tell her, in his calmest, most earnest voice, the sort of voice that would have made any doctor's bedside manner absolutely legendary, "I'm okay, Lois. I'm right here." Jimmy watched him, waited for it.

"Hi Lois!"

She only just looked up, only gave him the most insignificant of teary nods, and then she was gone. The doors were closed, and he had missed his chance.

Clark stood frozen for a little while, staring mournfully at the spot where she had been seconds ago, before turning around, pushing up his glasses, and making his way towards his desk as if it were eight in the morning.

The sight angered Jimmy, electrified him. The fact that he could see, could know that Lois was worrying herself to death over him, killing herself out of guilt, and still sit there, staring at a computer screen displaying the bare bones of a story that _she_ had probably gotten for him, that _she_ could have written with just as much ability, just as much accuracy. Lois was probably still sitting in that elevator, sobbing her heart out, and Clark was _here, _of all places.

It was enough to force him to stand, to force his legs, whether he wanted them to or not, towards Clark's desk, to stand behind him and _say _something.

"You have any idea what got Lois so upset just now?" Jimmy was surprised at how off-hand his words sounded, how casual, when in all honesty he was as mad as hell.

Clark jumped, startled not for the first time. For once, Jimmy found himself not to be amused. It had been all well and good before, but now Jimmy wondered how he _dared_ to be spooked so easily, how careless he was, that with all that fancy super-hearing at his disposal, he couldn't even know when someone was standing right behind him.

"Oh, no. No, I don't know why she's so upset." It was amazing, looking back, how utterly unconvincing of a liar he was. Perhaps all of that, "he never lies" should have been rephrased to say, "he couldn't lie to save his life."

"She's gotten herself all worked up about Superman. You know he hasn't shown his face since yesterday. People are starting to get worried."

"S-Superman? But, didn't he make some sort of statement-"

"Actions speak louder than words, don't they? Anyway, Lois feels like it's her fault, you know? She published all of that, years ago, about his vulnerability to kryptonite, and now it's starting to get him into trouble. It's funny, I would have thought Superman would be smarter than that, telling reporters about his only weakness. Not exactly his greatest move."

"Well, maybe he spoke up about it because he wanted people to know that he wasn't perfect, to make himself more trustworthy-" Jimmy cut him off again, surprising even himself with his next words.

"Yeah, well, it isn't just about him anymore is it? Now there's Jason to consider."

Clark went pale. Jimmy found himself rather tongue-tied; he really, _really _had not intended to say that, especially in public as they were. To his credit, he had managed to keep his voice down, and there weren't many people left in the bullpen. Chief had called a meeting, and the majority of the remaining staff were penned up inside the glass walls of the conference room. No one had heard him, he was sure about that.

As much as he knew he probably should have kept his mouth shut, Jimmy found the experience strangely liberating. There was more he wanted to say, more that Clark needed to hear. He might as well go for the gold, if he had already done this much damage. Clark, however, was already starting to recover from the slight shock he had received at Jimmy's pronouncement.

"How do you-" Jimmy took a deep breath, and readily interrupted Clark for the third time in forty-five seconds.

"If you ask me, he should start being a little more considerate about his son's well-being." Clark bristled at that last statement, and Jimmy knew that he had gone way too far, but he had to finish. He had to keep going.

"After all, it's one thing to be able to keep a secret like that when you grow up in Nowheresville, Kansas, but here? In the middle of all this? It's insane! The two of them are going to have a hell of a time figuring things out on their own. And you know what the worst part of it is?" Jimmy said those last words directly to Clark, who seemed to be genuinely stunned, not in the peaceable, absurdly infamous way that was all his own, but as if he felt like the ground was being ripped out from under his feet and gravity wasn't going to give up as easily as usual. It hadn't been a rhetorical question.

"It…will be just the two of them?" It sounded like Clark's voice, but Jimmy knew that this was Superman brought down, defeated by a little loser in a bow tie. Jimmy was sorely tempted to stop now, cut his losses, but he pressed on.

"No kidding. Because as long as _he_ can't gather up the guts to tell her _what his name is_, he has no right to be a part of their lives." If Clark had been pale when he had come in, it was nothing to how he looked now. To any onlooker, it would have appeared as though Jimmy's last sentence had slapped him across the face. Sensing the end of his rant, Jimmy lowered his voice further, calmed himself down.

"You need to tell her, Clark. You need to speak up. Is all this secrecy still doing anything to protect them? I mean, they spent all that time on Luthor's boat, for all we know he's had it figured out for months!"

Clark froze. If there were any physiological signs, outwardly visible, that indicated that someone's heart had just stopped beating, it would have been the expression on Clark's face at that moment.

"Luthor… he said it, he told me…"

Jimmy blinked, or must have, because Clark seemed to disappear at that very moment, leaving Jimmy with a pretty good idea of where he had gone, or at least, what he was looking for.

In the wake of the whole debacle with "New Krypton", most people had assumed that Luthor, as the man responsible, had been killed by his own creation when Superman had lifted the huge landmass into space. However, Jimmy, Lois, Clark, and all others concerned had learned enough about Lex Luthor to know not to assume anything until a body showed up. Jimmy himself was practically convinced that the madman was still out there, crouched in some hidey-hole in the middle of nowhere. Yes, Luthor was alive, and probably still ruminating over a very pivotal piece of information.

If Clark was currently searching for him, as Jimmy suspected he was, he would come up short. Luthor was knowledgeable enough to avoid detection, even by Superman. Nothing would be achieved today. They would need to wait for Luthor to present himself, which was hardly a comforting thought.

Twenty minutes passed, with Jimmy waiting in his chair, before Clark returned. He came in from the elevator, looking absolutely defeated, and promptly sat down in someone's chair (a crime he never would have committed under normal circumstances.) As Jimmy watched, the world's symbol of strength buried his face in his hands, his shoulders stooped. Jimmy felt like he was intruding on something, something deeply private and unreserved, something that nobody should have been allowed to witness, the central grief of a man who kept running into dead-ends at super-speed.

"I have to tell her." The whisper was nearly inaudible, spoken not to Jimmy, but somewhere into indefinable space. After a few more moments in blank silence, Clark finally rose from his chair, returned to the posture, demeanor, composure of the Superman that Jimmy had always tried so desperately to get a decent picture of. There was an undeniable solemnity in the way that Clark turned to face him before heading back to the elevator, the expression on his face more solid and effective than a mask at hiding whatever it was that went on behind it, whatever was felt.

"Thank you, Jimmy." And then he was gone.


	6. Run That By Me Again

**Hold Your Tongue **

Chapter Six: Run That by Me Again

---------------------

Jimmy went back to his apartment shortly after Clark had taken his leave, unable to concentrate and no longer interested in the grisly crime-scene photos that Chief had ordered him to dig up. The walk home seemed to take longer than usual. He hadn't realized that he was this tired.

Jimmy was in his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of milk, his sluggish mind occupied in formulating thoughts about a sandwich to be eaten at some point in the near future, when he heard a knock at his apartment door. He almost expected it to be Clark, in his mind having only recently escaped from a positively furious Lois, and now looking to throttle Jimmy for forcing him into such a stupid course of action. Jimmy couldn't say he hadn't seen it coming, but he wished that he could have at least been given the chance to finish his milk.

It took him a moment to come to the door, which, despite his full knowledge of the potential dangers awaiting him on the other side, he still had every intention of answering (Clark wasn't the only one who's mother had instilled in him a rather deeply ingrained sense of politeness.) A quick look through the peep-hole, and he was somewhat startled to see that it was, in fact, Richard, looking more exhausted than he would have after a good share of jet lag and holding a suitcase in his hand.

Jimmy's first impulse, of course, was to let the man in, even while his brain had suddenly thrown itself into overdrive and began buzzing with questions, each clambering for consideration, a prime spot in line. What was he doing here? Not only standing forlornly in unfamiliar territory so late at night, without a bed of his own to sleep in, but _here. _What he meant was that Richard, being the person he was, was decidedly popular, both among his fellow employees at the Planet and elsewhere. Jimmy was sure that he had numerous other friends, fellow pilots, college buddies, all of whom would have been better candidates for this sort of "crashing". Why him? How many "revelations" had actually occurred tonight? What the hell had Clark actually _done? What in the Sam Hill was going on? _

Instead of instantly berating the poor man with rude inquiries, he did his best to be hospitable.

"Come on in."

Richard answered with a sad smile, trying his absolute best not to appear in the least bit pitiable, and did as he was told. Jimmy watched him steady himself, take a deep breath, and prepare to get all the un-pleasantries out of the way as soon as possible.

"I moved out." It was an unnecessary comment, to say the least, but Jimmy let him take the Mulligan. There was a great deal more waiting behind it, and he sat still.

"Oh. Well-" Jimmy did his best to fend off the coming subjects, but Richard seemed to want to have everything said and out in the open, which was a very Richard-ish thing to do. So much the better.

"I mean, we've been separated for… a while. Lois and I. We both agreed that I should stay around, for Jason's sake. Things just-" He gave a noncommittal gesture that was something between a shrug and a sweep of the hand, but Jimmy got the idea, and he certainly wasn't going to press things any further.

"Ah," Jimmy looked around for a moment, trying to find some way to alleviate the heavy amounts of awkwardness that just came with the subject matter, before his eyes alighted on his (open) refrigerator. "Could you use something to eat? I was just about to make myself a sandwich or something…" He trailed off, but the idea seemed to resonate with Richard, who looked like he hadn't had much of an appetite for a while.

When he was busy putting together a meager dinner, Richard set his suitcase down and took a seat on the couch. Across the counter, Jimmy watched him sit hunched over, his head in his hands, in much the same pose as he had watched Clark sit in only a few hours earlier. Once again he felt obliged to look away.

Having stowed away the mustard and cleaned up the rest of the kitchen as much as he felt able, Jimmy took the two newly-sandwiched plates into the living room. Setting them down on the coffee table, he was about to take a seat…

"I don't think Jason is my son."

Jimmy thanked God or Buddha or whoever it was calling the shots that he hadn't been about to swallow a mouthful of coffee at that moment, as Richard would have gotten it full in the face. As it was, he was having a hard time getting his jaw off the floor.

He tried desperately to compose himself, even while many of the questions buzzing frenetically in his head were suddenly answered out of existence. This, at least, explained why the older man had chosen to come _here_, of all places, as opposed to the residence of one of his college friends. Jimmy thought it would be quite impossible to express these sorts of sentiments to someone you once saw in a toga.

Now all Jimmy had to do was actually decide how exactly he intended to respond to this particular pronouncement. It was quite a pickle he was in, yes indeed.

"What makes you think that?" Of course, his words just had to sound like they were coming through a dog whistle, and it would have been clear to a two-year old that he knew much more than he was letting on, but Richard, for his part, seemed relatively relieved that Jimmy had just said _something. _And, pathetic as it was, it was probably a better thing for Richard to hear than the straight truth. God, Jimmy really did fee like he had just stepped into a never-ending episode of "_Days of Our Lives_."

_"Oh yes. You know, you're absolutely right. Turns out you've been raising Superman's kid all along. Bummer, that." _That would have gone over exceptionally well.

It took Richard a while to collect himself and reply (which was certainly understandable.)

"I-I don't even know. I have no reason to think-" He cut himself off, frowning, as if he suddenly realized that he _did _ have a reason, or multiple reasons, none of which he had chosen to recognize or examine until now.

Jimmy searched frantically for some way to effectively change the subject. There had to be something, _anything, _that might get Richard's mind off of his memories of the time that Jason had seen something incriminating through their next-door neighbors wooden fence, or snapped a stapler in half (was that the reason, Jimmy wondered, why Lois could never find her own to work with?) Now, today, in Jimmy's spartan little living room, was not the best of circumstances for Richard to hear the painful bit of news that he would eventually have to receive.

"Well-"

"I mean, the timing was always…" he was not in a mood to finish his sentence, but Jimmy could see that this conversation was far from over. If he managed to get a completely grammatical sentence in edgewise it would be a miracle, but allowing the older man to just run freely with these doubts in his head would not allow either of them to arrive at a happy conclusion.

"That doesn't mean, necessarily-"

"I know that she wouldn't, if she knew, I guess-"

"It's just been a weird couple of months, that's all…"

"I didn't pay attention. That stupid rumor mill, when _he_ left-"

"None of that was-"

"She never liked to talk about it…"

"I'm sure that she-"

"She _never _liked to talk about it…"

"Everyone was trying-"

"I'm right, aren't I?"

It wasn't a matter of admitting defeat. Defeat was standing over him with a club, looking murderous. Jimmy had no idea how his friend should know anything about the information that he possessed, but he knew. Richard had figured it out on his own; put two and two together, just like Jason had. They really were so alike, in so many ways. It was entirely unfair that they should be so convincing, so believable as father and son. It made all of this so much worse.

Richard rose to take his untouched plate back into the kitchen, and Jimmy used the opportunity to scurry back into his own room, to give the other man some time and space to think things through on his own. And so they both ended the night knowing full well that Richard was correct in his assumptions, and, while neither of them mentioned it, while Richard scarcely allowed himself to think of it, also knowing the role that a certain extraterrestrial in tights had played in all of this.

-------------------------------------

When Jimmy woke up, the older man had already left, his suitcase missing from the spot it had occupied the night before. The three of them, Clark, Lois, and Richard, were all at their respective desks when Jimmy walked into the office, a few minutes later than usual but not late enough to elicit any reflexive shouting from the Chief.

Jimmy took the time to study them for a moment. Lois was seated, typing rather dramatically, her eyes narrowed and her fingers tense in what Jimmy would have considered a relatively relaxed position for her. Clark was on the phone, buttering up whoever happened to be on the other end of the line with a heaping helping of Midwestern charm and taking notes at a terrific speed. From what he could see of Richard, all the way across the bullpen in his elegantly executive office, his one-time (and hopefully never again) roommate was doing nothing more than reading e-mails.

They all seemed to be operating under a strange amount of assumed calm, almost as if they were basking in acceptance of the previous night's events. They looked, for all the world, as if they had experienced nothing remotely life-altering or even mildly unusual. They were at work, it was nine in the morning, and there were things to be done.

And that was how it went for several hours. Every short span of interaction that he had with them gave Jimmy the distinct impression that all of yesterday's strange events had just been some sort of bizarre, Carrolesque hallucination, a "bad trip", or whatever those sorts of things were called.

Jimmy was just about to give in to the possibility that he simply had a frighteningly overactive imagination, when Clark approached him.

It was around lunchtime, and Jimmy had just been about to head downstairs, when he noticed the taller man walking towards him, wringing his hands, which wasn't an all-together unusual thing for Clark Kent to be doing, but there was something in his expression which made Jimmy think that this was no longer play-acting. There wasn't much of a point to it anymore, after all. Any nervous gesture, at this point, should only be genuine.

At this, Jimmy was sort of annoyed. As _interesting _as it was to suddenly be thrust into the tumultuous personal lives of his office mates, he wasn't sure he really wanted to be their shoulder to cry on anymore. Would it have killed Clark to take his problems somewhere else?

"Jimmy?" The voice was Superman's, undoubtedly, unquestionably. The gloves were finally off, and Jimmy was glad to know it. The downside, however, was that underneath the infamous superhero timbre (perhaps _way _underneath it) was an undercurrent of genuine concern and uncertainly.

"Uh huh?" Jimmy mumbled, just looking up from the stack of negatives he had been thumbing through.

"I'm worried about Lois." Jimmy found himself feeling like he was sitting behind the desk in some shrink's office with a clipboard in his hand, fingers steeped, and he had to resist the urge to ask Clark to tell him about his childhood. Instead, he took his time in setting down the negatives, adjusted the position of his camera bag, and swiveled in his chair to face his confused and evidently distraught friend.

"How's she worrying you?" Jimmy could think of a host of reasonable answers on his own, but he thought it best to start from the beginning.

Clark seemed to take stock of this question for a moment, seemingly frustrated with his own inability to describe the situation properly. He tensed for a moment, wondering how best to make his point.

"Well, look! " he whispered, having lowered his voice to compensate for the expansive gesture he made in Lois's direction, where she was standing, chatting quite normally over the phone with some government bozo whose cooperation she required for her most recent assignment. She appeared to be entirely oblivious to their observation.

Jimmy turned a questioning eye to Clark, unsure of what it was he was even talking about. Obviously he was trying to puzzle together why his announcement the night before (an announcement that Jimmy could only assume he had actually made) wasn't having its anticipated effect. Though, Jimmy couldn't help but wonder what sort of reaction _had_ he expected? Lois would be Lois, after all, no matter what situation she was put in. As far as Jimmy was concerned, she was taking it all in stride, and doing a remarkably good job. Far from being concerned, Clark should be thanking the heavens that he had escaped from this whole debacle with his head still intact. That was what Jimmy would have been doing, anyway.

Still, Clark probably wouldn't have been so obviously anxious without some sort of logic behind it.

"Well, how'd it go yesterday? You know, when-" Clark raised his hand distractedly, indicating to Jimmy that he didn't need to continue. He took another second to collect himself, as if he was almost ashamed of what he knew he had to say next. For one brief and terrifying moment, Jimmy was sure that Clark would tell him that it hadn't "gone" at all, and that he had, as Jimmy feared, chickened out at the last minute. What he _did_ say, however, was not nearly as disappointing, but far more confusing.

"I…don't know." Jimmy had to process this most recent fragment of information, but he didn't take his time.

"What do you mean, you 'don't know'? What she do, I mean, when-" Jimmy forced back his irritation at being shut up again, telling himself that Clark really didn't think that he'd be dumb enough to blow his secret, this late in the game. The guy was just a little over-cautious, that was all. Jimmy supposed it was understandable.

"Nothing."

Clark's eyes were wide, perhaps with terror at the fresh memory. By now, Jimmy was entirely lost. What on earth was _that_ supposed to mean, 'nothing'? Did 'nothing' mean that she had not tried to physically remove him from her presence with a desk lamp or a pair of stilettos? Or did 'nothing' mean that she hadn't ruptured a lung screaming obscenities at him and cursing his name? What Lois were they talking about here?

"She didn't do _anything?" _Jimmy was fighting to keep all signs of incredulity out of his voice, but whether he succeeded or failed at this point wasn't of much concern to him.

"She didn't yell or throw anything at me. She just…stood there. And then she sat down and went on with the book she had been reading."

Jimmy, who had been staring at the floor, let his eyes travel upward to alight on Clark's miserable face, and then on to Lois, who was still on the phone, the satisfied smirk plastered on her face that told him she was getting exactly what she wanted, then to Richard, who was engaged in some sort of verbal sparring match with Perry, and back to Clark again. And then he started laughing.

He really couldn't help himself. It was, all of it, the funniest thing that he had ever encountered in the years of his life. Yes, it was frustrating, and it was confusing, and dramatic, and so many other terrible things, but it wasn't impossible to find the humor buried deep beneath all the theatrical, affected layers. As long as _someone_ could find it funny, than maybe it really wasn't so bad after all. It may have to get worse before it got better, but it was only a small price to pay. They'd come through it alright, he knew that now.

After a few more seconds, Jimmy was able to put his mirth aside enough to force out some coherent words.

"Man are _you_ in trouble."


	7. Hip to be Square

**Hold Your Tongue**

Chapter Seven: Hip to be Square

----------------------

Jimmy's little laughing fit trailed off after a while, and Clark's horrified expression mollified into something that seemed to suggest a sense of imminent doom, which was something of an improvement. Jimmy watched as his friend was called back to earth (figuratively speaking) and his desk (quite literally) with a ring on his phone. He was about to get back to work himself, when he heard Chief bellowing from across the bullpen.

"Olsen! My office!"

As soon as he was inside, Jimmy cut right to the chase (or at least what he assumed the chase to be), pulling out the shots that he would have been turning in anyway, but Perry swatted them away.

"Sit down, Jimmy." Jimmy froze. He had never once been asked to "sit down" in Chief's office; no one was. Not ever.

But he did as he was told, and looked up. It was odd how, from this angle, the Chief looked so indescribably _old_, older than he has ever looked before. The lines of his face seem grotesquely pronounced, the shadows under his eyes deeper than they should have been. Late nights in the office, deafening arguments with the print crew, verbal fist fights with the fogeys on the board, those weren't the things that put the white streaks in Chief's hair. It had to be something else, something more than that. But what the hell could stress out Perry White?

Jimmy waited, but his boss seemed reluctant to speak, his initial hesitation drawn out into a long and awkward pause, so unlike the frighteningly lightening-like actions and reactions that had characterized his long reign in the newspaper industry.

"You know, I don't really know why I bother." God, was his voice _old. _The words seemed forced around some sort of breathing apparatus, from a walker, a death bed. Exactly how many years did their Almighty Editor-and-Master really have under his belt? Still Jimmy waited, reluctant to reply to something he was sure had to be a rhetorical question…or something like that.

"The thing is, I'm not sure what it is that I can do." His initial feelings of confusion were gone. Jimmy knew exactly what it was that Perry was talking about, exactly what had him stretched so thin.

"I just can't' stand to see three people so young and so unhappy." Being right really wasn't all that much of a comfort.

Still, even in this terribly unconventional mood, Perry wasn't one to go off on some emotional monologue in front of his junior photographer. There was more purpose to this meeting than just giving the older man a chance to vent his feelings, Jimmy was certain of it.

Sure enough, the greatest editor in the history of the Daily Planet didn't take his time in getting back on his feet, pacing in front of his desk in that way that was quintessentially his own.

"Chief-" Jimmy began, the hold of silence on his voice released by this characteristic display of action. "I don't know if either of us are really up to the challenge"

"You spoke with Richard yesterday." The tone of his voice was snappy, and Jimmy read loud and clear that there were more questions waiting where that one came from. Perhaps he would counter with a few of his own.

"He told you that?" And more, Jimmy allowed himself to guess. A scathing glance from Perry confirmed his suspicions.

"More important is what he didn't say."

Oh great. Ethical dilemmas. These were the one things Jimmy could not stand. Any idiot off the street could have understood that what Perry wanted right now was information, and he was willing to push his own particular brand of reporter's logic to get to it. Jimmy wasn't quite sure how much time his boss had actually spent as one of the elite, turning in copy as opposed to turning it out, but he had a distinct feeling that the terms "anonymity" and "off the record" had not been in his vocabulary at that particular period in time.,

"It wasn't much of a conversation, to be honest." Perry didn't look remotely convinced, and he let it show. Jimmy could only pray that Richard hadn't exactly gone into much detail in regards to the topics which they had covered in their "something-of-a-sort-of-conversation". He didn't really know how much the Planet's only nepotistic team confided in each other.

"Is that so?" Dammit.

"Well, it wasn't a _long_ converstion…" That, at least, was true, but Jimmy was still going to have to figure out how to fight himself out of the corner he found himself in.

"Did he mention anything about the kid? How's he doing?"

Jimmy blanched. It only took a second or two for him to register the fact that Perry was only concerned about his grand-nephew's well being and state of mind after being faced with his father's absence, which was more than understandable. It would do no good to relay what Richard _had _actually said about Jason.

"I-I don't know. He seems alright, though. Doesn't he?" Jason had come into work with his mom that morning, and was still sitting by her desk, fiddling with the "Bushisms" calendar that she never updated. Perry spared a glance at the little boy, apparently satisfied, before returning his attention to Jimmy.

"He's a tough kid." Jimmy nodded his agreement.

"He is."

They sat in silence for a moment or two, and Jimmy thought that he might actually get let off the hook this time.

"What were you and Clark discussing earlier?" The question was like a slap to the face, and before he could gather his wits, come up with a convincing lie, he had already screwed up to his utmost ability.

"Lois."

Perry replied with an annoyed little huff.

"So he's told her then? Took him long enough."

Time stopped. Outside the glass walls of Perry's office, Clark's eyes had grown to the size of dinner plates, and his fingers, which had been typing away so dutifully, halted mid-motion.

Perry _knew? _The instant the thought completed itself he knew that it was the stupidest question he had ever asked, even within the confines of his own mind. Of course Perry knew. Suddenly, Perry knew _everything_, from how to reverse the effects of global warming to the number of questions Jimmy had cheated on during his ninth-grade biology final. How could Jimmy ever have assumed that Perry _didn't _know?

Behind that executive desk of his, Perry seemed patiently waiting for Jimmy to work his mind around the idea. Well, perhaps "patiently" was the wrong word to use.

"Stop gawking, Olsen, and pay attention!"

"Sure Chief," he muttered, his voice dry.

A cloud of "now what?"s descended upon the two of them, and Jimmy found himself staring at his shoes again.

"He's been an idiot. Clark, I mean." He had neither any idea where the statement had come from, nor any doubts about its truthfulness.

Perry answered him with an imperious nod. Yes, they both knew about that. Now they had to fix it.

"What do you suppose he plans to do next?" Chief's question showed signs of vulnerability again, and Jimmy panicked for a second time, giving a reply before really taking the time to think things through.

"I haven't the faintest idea." He should have known better than to answer weakness with inompetence, one of the Perry's greatest pet peeves, and he fumbled to atone for his mistake.

"I-I mean, Lois didn't take it real well, so I can imagine-" An idea had entered into Jimmy's mind, and he decided to pursue it. "Chief, why do you think she never figured it out on her own?"

It seemed that he had asked a difficult question, because Chief sat back with a frown, considering his response.

"Lois is the best damn reporter this paper has ever had, and one of the most intelligent people I have ever known. The quickest minds can make the quickest judgments." Jimmy wasn't entirely sure he understood, and Perry didn't seem to be one-hundred percent convinced himself, because he quickly jumped ship and landed on a whole new topic.

"Well, there was always going to be that hurdle to cross. He's dug his own grave, as far as I'm concerned."

"I guess."

"His problems, not ours."

"Right, Chief."

"They'll just have to figure out how to fix this on their own."

"Uh huh."

"No matter how long it takes them."

At this, they both halted. No matter how long... Taking a look at the combined track record of the Daily Planet's two best reporters, even disregarding the way they had behaved lately, "No matter how long" could end up taking a _very _long time. And as much as Jimmy really wanted to wash his hands of the whole debacle, as much as Perry abhorred the idea of getting entangled in the personal business of his employees, all of those involved, Clark, Lois, Richard, Jason, were as good as family to the two of them. And if there was one thing Jimmy had learned from growing up in a sitcom-addicted household, the term "family" justified just about any kind of meddling.

-------------------

Though Chief seemed to have shied away from pairing them together when Clark had initially returned, "Lane and Kent" were saddled together for their next story, and the one after that, and the one after that. They were kept out on assignment so much of the time that Jimmy rarely saw them at the office anymore, and he had little idea how Perry's plan to catalyze some sort of change between them was actually going. "Man are _you_ in trouble"- he never really got the chance to know whether or not he had been right or wrong with that little prophecy of his. Though that was just fine by him.

"Jimmy, is it an 'e' or an 'a' in the last syllable of 'demulcent'?"

Though he couldn't quite recall ever actually seeing that word in print, he was quite confident that it was the former.

"It's an 'e'. At least, I think so. Still working on that one about the spiked-up cough drops? Isn't that a bit out of your league?" She grimaced at Jimmy's tactlessness in pointing out that she hadn't really taken any serious work for a while. The wires had been pretty dry, and though this normally would have thrown her into a state of great annoyance, Jimmy noticed that she had been careful not to complain about how boring their city seemed to have become in the absence of all the crime and corruption that reporters fed on so reflexively. It was oddly mature of her, in Jimmy's opinion. Still, the soft stuff seemed to be getting to her, and commercially-marketed cough drops laced with illicit substances wasn't really her thing.

"Thanks for that." He watched her prod out a few more syllables, and then jab at the print button, without any of her usual fervor. She rose from her chair, heading for the printer, but about half way there she decided to take something of a detour.

"Hey, Jimmy?" She waited until he turned around, for once patient enough to actually wait for eye contact.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. It was inappropriate, unprofessional, and, well, sort of silly." Though Jimmy had no trouble whatsoever knowing what it was she was talking about, he had to admit to being a little taken aback, first that she should have chosen to bring it up now, of all times (though she so casually referred to it as "the other day", it really had been a while), second that she should be _apologizing, _for _anything. _Still, he had to give credit where credit was due. Any one else would have been brought close to tears just recalling the events that immediately preceded and followed her little breakdown, but not her. Lois Lane was so much stronger than that, so much more resilient than that. And what she needed right now, Jimmy knew, was to prove that to herself.

"Don't worry about it." He smoothed things over as best he could, giving her his most child-like smile.

She didn't continue to the printer right away. Though Jimmy couldn't be sure, he had a distinct feeling that she was watching Clark (or the back of his head) where he stood busying himself with the copier, which seemed to be giving him something of a hard time.

"So, you've gotten everything worked out…there…I mean…" She turned back to face him, and gave him a sad little smile and a comforting nod. She noticed his eyes travel to the spot where her own had been resting earlier.

"I know you had a hand in it, Jimmy. And I appreciate it. We all do."

Jimmy took this has permission to dive right in, and finally be able to speak openly (if not obviously) about those things which had gone unresolved for such a horribly long time. Besides, he would need a few more details, if he was to know whether or not Perry's intrusion into this whole thing was really necessary (which it was not, from the looks of things.)

"I'm sorry, that it didn't happen sooner than it did…" He trailed off, afraid that he had said something he shouldn't have. But she didn't seem to mind.

"Oh no, Jimmy. You've done more than your share, you really have. It's just…" Now it was her turn to not get to the end of her sentence. She turned away from him again, her eyes falling once more upon the object of both their observation and conversation alike. Jimmy knew she wasn't finished.

"The world is so big, Jimmy. And he is so small."

He had never really thought about it like that.

----------------------

_AN_

_I apologize for the agonizingly long time it took me to get this posted. Between school, sports, and whatnot, there isn't nearly as much time for writing as the summer provided. From the looks of things, I'm not the only one who has been put in such a situation. _

_On another note, this story is (quite clearly) drawing to a close. I have one more chapter planned, which may end up being more of an epilogue than anything else. It may not manage to tie up all the loose ends that I have carelessly left lying around, but I will excuse this by pointing out that I'm not exactly writing from an omniscient point of view. Though Jimmy has found himself stuck in the middle of this great big mess more than he ever really wanted to, it is important to remember that this is not, in fact, _his _mess. And as such, there will be bits and pieces in the general flow of things that occur without his knowledge, whether sudden or eventual. Lois and Clark's inexplicably sudden made-up status was left inexplicable for a reason, for example. What good is this whole fanfiction thing if you don't leave a little room to play afterward? _

_One more thing- I do have another story in works, to be continued in earnest after Hold Your Tongue is finally put to bed. Something a little more in-depth, a little more serious, and generally unconnected with the SR plot that we have all had so much fun running forward in our minds, it's an idea that's been fermenting (and, for that matter, giving off quite a smell) in my head for some time, and shouldn't be too long in the making. Expect something of a preview with the next (and last) installment of this lovely little venture. _


End file.
